Graduation Night
by CorruptedBarbie
Summary: Rebekah's sole intention for the evening is to lose her inhibitions and enjoy herself to the fullest extent... but it takes a little help from Damon Salvatore to fulfill her desires. (Rated M for a reason)


Author's Note: My last two posts received much more attention than I ever anticipated, encouraging me to continue posting... An update on the Klena fic is next to come. Reviews are much appreciated. **SMUT WARNING.**

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Graduation night.

The bass of some atrocious song, which shouldn't even really be classified as 'music', rumbles loudly throughout the property. Newly liberated graduates mill in and out of various rooms, the carefree crowds venturing off to dance, drink, and behave incredibly recklessly in their fragile human forms.

To them, graduation is an unforgettable milestone that marks their lifelong achievements and accompanies tremendous decisions and responsibility. To me, graduation is mostly just an excuse to party... to let go of the innumerable plagues, stress, and dangers that are inexplicably associated with vampire existence... to just get completely and totally annihilated.

But it's not working.

Keg stands, beer pong, jello shots, body shots... For some reason, unbeknownst to me, the booze just isn't having the same effect it usually does.

With some casual mind-compulsion, a strikingly handsome young man eagerly trails behind my sauntering silhouette to a more private location. The exact moment the door latches behind us, he finds himself pressed forcibly against it; flowing curves molded perfectly against him as knife-like fangs swiftly pierce into the alluring vein that throbs beneath the pale skin of his neck.

With my thirst for blood satiated and the copious amount of liquor consumed, a nagging sense of dissatisfaction still lingers. On a day meant to celebrate one's accomplishments, I feel rather... unfulfilled.

Before returning to the ongoing festivities, I ascertain whatever semblance of secrecy remains in Mystic Falls with one last dilation of my eyes and a few disinterested words.

Wandering aimlessly throughout the throngs of surprisingly unfamiliar faces, pastel brims curl into a largely fabricated smile. I'm determined to have a good time.

For one night, I'm allowed to abandon all concern... to stop needlessly worrying over whatever scheme my brother(s) might develop next. For one night, I'm just going to let it all go and do whatever the fuck I feel like.

Re-centered after a few calming breaths, the intoxicating effects of both the alcohol and the fresh human blood surge through my system, further encouraging this new-found determination. After busying myself with one or two (or six) more shots, the disturbing allure or poorly selected music subconsciously draws me to the middle of an inebriated crowd of uncoordinated dancers.

The pull of the beat guides my movements much more gracefully than those surrounding me. Heavily-lashed lids fall shut as I content myself with the steady thrum from the speakers and the gentle sway of my hips.

The sudden sensation of calloused fingertips seeking purchase upon my waist abruptly halts my sensuous movements. "Ah, ah, ah," silky smooth tones ghost barely audibly over the persistent noise. One supernaturally swift motion brings my frame flush with his as pallid petals whisper with a hint of taunt against the shell of my ear, "You looked lonely out here... I thought you could use some company..."

Damon Salvatore... always the charmer.

Our history speaks well enough for itself, and it takes every ounce of self control I possess not to turn around and smack the smug smirk, which almost certainly covers his lips, right off his face. But this could be fun... He could prove to be the most delicious little distraction tonight... This could be **exactly** what I need...

Shrugging off whatever lingering doubts and annoyance remained, my body relaxes noticeably beneath his touch before resuming my previous activities. Synchronized movements mirror the current song choice with exact precision, developing a slightly more provocative hue.

Dancing in this century is actually a bit like foreplay... Sweaty bodies pressed tightly together... sinfully rubbing against all the right (or wrong) places as two become one with another.

The average song lasts about three minutes; three minutes feels like an eternity of sweet, agonizing torture when you're dancing with Damon Salvatore.

The light stubble covering his chin sends shivers down my spine as he rests it against my shoulder... The humid warmth of his breath against such sensitive flesh collides with the unseasonably cool night temperature to create a whirlwind of sensation at the unexpected contrast... The fingers of one hand grip my hip with a bruising force that tightens significantly furthermore with each intentionally teasing movement.

The man really is heaven and hell combined.

As the excruciatingly long song slowly begins to draw to a close, I purposely grind myself a little more fully against the already present firmness encased in dark denims. Such an expressive motion earns a quiet groan from the aroused vampire as one of his hands begins to move suggestively upwards, underneath the thin fabric of my blouse.

Neither of us move as the music fades out; both breathless, hot, and bothered - it proves impossible to focus on much else. I'm not sure I could survive another dance with the devil in disguise.

Much to my avail, the next song changes tempo; a ballad of sorts begins, allowing the sweat-slickened teens a chance to catch their breath. The song provides opportunity for a more emotionally intimate embrace instead of the purely physical one I'd dared to seek.

Rather than immediately leading him away from the growing gathering of couples, I follow suit, turning to face him as a faux-angelic smile graces my lips. Smooth brims twist into an uncertain grin, confusion flickering across icy optics as I rest my forearms upon his shoulders, my fingers lacing together at the base of his neck.

Enchanting pools of cerulean instantly fixate upon his as I elevate my gaze, my pupils dilating imperceptibly as I beckon, "Come with me..."

I know fully well that Damon takes regular doses of vervain to prevent any such threats, so my compulsion would essentially prove useless. The overly-dramatized act had simply served as a loophole for any potential future guilt. An unsettled subconscious is capable of many things, but if the elder Salvatore brother follows my departure, it would be /his/ choice.

Without casting a backwards glance, I make my way through the slowly dwindling groups of drunken adolescents and back to the room I'd occupied earlier this evening with increasing difficulty. The nearly blinding sexual tension in conjunction with more alcohol than several humans could safely ingest seems to have affected my balance... perhaps even my judgement as well, based upon my choice of company.

Stumbling through the doorway to the vacant bedroom, I curse beneath my breath as I kick off my sandals in a fit of disdained frustration. A dark chuckle of amusement fills the room before I even sense his presence behind me.

Typically known for taking the most direct approach, I return to previous tactics, instantaneously pinning the cocky vampire against the door in much the same manner as my tasty little guest from earlier.

My eyes meet his for the briefest of moments before my lips cover his in a fierce, reckless embrace. Dainty digits curled tightly into his leather jacket tug impatiently at the material as my tongue demands entrance to his mouth, which he readily grants.

Delayed gratification has never been my strong suit, and his jacket soon finds its way to the floor, our tongues still entangled in a feverish battle for dominance.

Slender fingers fist into raven locks, slightly stilling his movements with a single, authoritative tug. Blunted ivories nip teasingly at his bottom lip as aqua depths meet in a collaborative, salacious stare. Lust-darkened optics reflect my own unfathomable desire, igniting a spark of passion into a full-blown inferno of depraved longing.

Buttons scatter haphazardly across the polished hardwood as impulse reigns control, ripping his shirt open in one swift motion. It seems his impatience matches my own however; as soft fingertips begin to traverse down the smooth planes of his chest, I quickly find our positions reversed, crushed between the hard surface of the door and the toned contours of his flawless frame.

My own blouse meets the same unfortunate demise as it's literally torn from my nearly quivering frame. His lips connect with the newly exposed alabaster flesh, leaving a hot trail of wet kisses across my upper chest and shoulders.

Each frenzied kiss, every taunting nip sends tiny ripples of pleasure coursing through my bloodstream, creating an overwhelming sense of urgency. Running my fingernails down his chest with a light scrape, anxious digits fumble with his belt for but a moment before unfastening it and flicking open the button of his jeans.

"Ah, ah, ah," that same little self-certain remark resounds sarcastically as he immediately ceases his pleasing torture, pulling my hands away from their intended task before I can venture any further. Undisguised annoyance seethes from my frame, my chest heaving with uneven breathing as furious lenses fly upwards with blatant scrutiny.

What. The. Fuck?!

My patience wears thinner as he clasps both my wrists in one hand, his expression haughty as his lips twitch into his signature smirk. Just as I'm about to snap, his free hand ghosts across the bare skin of my lower abdomen before delving beneath the barrier of my shorts.

"Ladies first," he breathes against the overheated flesh of my neck as wandering digits expertly seek out my core.

Any qualms I'd held in opposition vanish in a breathy moan as he increases the delicious friction between my thighs with skilled technique. Pushing the shirt from his shoulder to join his jacket on the floor, kiss-swollen lips find his neck, laying a zealous path of playful bites, licks, and kisses along the delectable column. A strangled cry escapes plush petals as two long fingers plunge simultaneously into my entrance, his thumb brushing against that little bundle of nerves with small jolts of ecstasy.

Though his motives to bring me past the point of no return are clear and altogether /too/ enticing, I have other intentions.

Pulling myself away from his addictive embrace with supernatural ease, a manipulative grin claims my lips just before he finds himself pinned to the mattress beneath me. Idle fingertips leisurely lower the abrasive fabric of his jeans as my breathless tones resonate with a lack of authority, "You don't make the rules here, Damon. I'm older... faster... stronger... My voice trails off as my lips return to his searing flesh with obvious intent as they begin to journey south.

My poor attempt at asserting dominance over him clearly has no effect as the next moment brings me to my back, my arms securely pinned above my head and my vision clouded with lust as he tears the bra from my lithe form.

His mouth quickly closes upon one pebbled nipple, any verbal protests becoming an embarrassingly loud moan of approval. His free hand palms my other breath, lightly tweaking the hardened nub before continuing downwards to rid my frame of the only remaining garments. His rigid length presses against my inner thigh, his stare hot, heavy, and seductive as he positions himself naturally between my legs.

I swear, I could come undone by his gaze alone.

He alternates his attentions to my other breast, tongue laving graciously across the ample swell as the tip of his shaft rests between glistening nether lips. He teases my entrance until I'm thrashing and writhing beneath him, evidently pleased with the reactions he so easily manages to elicit.

With a mutual groan of satisfaction, he finally joins our bodies together, sliding deep within silken walls with a single, hard thrust.

Fueled by unbridled passion and reckless intoxication, my ankles lock at his waist, drawing him deeper as my fingers curl viciously into dark strands. Directing his lips to mine with a demanding tug against his scalp, his mouth quiets my pleasure-filled gasps.

My hips rise to meet his, thrust for thrust, silently urging him to increase his pace. In response to my desperate, frenzied actions, he only gradually slows his movements, exaggeratedly drawing each one out for as long as possible. Such exquisite torture.

With mounting frustration, manicured nails rake violently down his back, blood seeping to the surface of angry, red welts before I flip us over with infuriated haste. Palms rest peacefully atop his firm chest, my hips straddling his as I lower myself upon him little by little.

An all-consuming need for release slowly overpowers any remaining rational thought as his hips rock into mine, earning a sharp gasp of primal bliss. Succumbing solely to pure sensation, my movements drastically quicken, the powerful lure of inevitable demise looming just beyond my reach.

Loud, ragged breathing and unabashed moans reverberate around the dimly lit room as we both approach our breaking points. His fingertips dig brutally into my hipbones, guiding my voracious movements to a mutually satisfactory pace. Sweat covers both our bodies in an incandescent sheen; one of his hands slipping between our slick forms to quickly locate that sensitive little nub.

One hand grips his shoulder, the other clenching impossibly tight into the bed sheets as he initiates my undoing. The outside world slips away, the earth shattering around us as my climax hits with monumental force, subsequently triggering his own.

With a few moments more of rough, animalistic movements, my arms give out, my body falling upon his chest as my lips find his. I roll my hips sinfully into his a few more times, prolonging the delicious aftershocks of such intense sensation and causing him to moan into my mouth.

Thoroughly satiated, I rest my forehead against his, unmoving for a long while as we both focus on regulating our rapid breaths.

With my night remarkably improved, I reluctantly pull myself from his frame in search of my greatly useless clothing. Heightened peripherals catch sight of that cocky, arrogant smirk etched upon his lips once more.

'How could you be so stupid, Bekah?' I chide myself; a visible heat rising to my cheeks as he verbalizes his egotistical appreciation with a, "Thanks, blondie." Unwilling to make eye contact, I continue my self-scolding as I slip out of the room.

I'm never going to live this down...


End file.
